


Safe

by hawksonfire



Series: Clint Barton Bingo 2019 [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Asexual Clint Barton, Bruce/Betty mentioned, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Cheek Kisses, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint knows how to adult, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gay Bucky Barnes, Important Conversations are Had, M/M, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Miscommunication, POV Clint Barton, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sleepy Cuddles, Thor/Jane mentioned, Tony/Pepper mentioned - Freeform, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 18:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18696766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: Clint has a very large, very stupid crush on Bucky Barnes. It's not like anything will ever come of it, because Clint would never ask Bucky to give up sex, especially not when Bucky is always making sex jokes and flirting with him and making innuendos. Because that obviously means that he likes sex. Right?





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Clint Barton Bingo Square N2 - Roommates.
> 
> Everyone's experience with their sexuality is different, and this is just my interpretation of Clint's. Enjoy!
> 
> Russian translations in end notes.

**Clint**

Clint stumbled into the kitchen, eyes still mostly crusted shut (seriously, where does that nasty eye goop crap even come from?) and somehow manages to not bang into the wall or the island or the Bucky on his way to the coffee machine. “You’re a mess in the morning, Barton,” Bucky says fondly - at least, Clint thinks it was fondly. Frankly, his brain is not on enough for conversation yet.

Clint makes a noise that could _maybe_ be interpreted as human and rubs at his eyes until he can sort of see. He’s greeted with a shirtless Bucky drinking coffee and smirking at him over the brim of his mug - and look. Clint might feel as much sexual attraction as a cactus does, but he can still appreciate a nice set of abdominal muscles, alright. He makes another noise approximating human vocal noises and trips over Bucky’s feet as he reaches for a mug.

Bucky starts talking again, and Clint likes the guy, he does, but it is _too early for this_ . So he puts his hand out without looking and pats his way up Bucky’s chest (nice) to his mouth, which he then covers. Ah, blissful silence. Bucky licks him and it takes Clint a moment to respond - because his _brain_ is still _offline_ , goddammit.

“Wha?” He says, intelligently. Bucky snickers and pulls his head away from Clint’s hand, leaving it hanging in the air like a loser. (yes, Clint knows his hand can’t technically be a loser, alright, but it’s his hand. It can be whatever he wants it to be.) That decided, Clint nods abruptly and grabs his now-full coffee mug from the machine, cradling it close to his body to absorb the heat.

“So you’re cool with it, then?” Bucky’s asking him something. Doesn’t he know Clint can’t function until at least three cups of coffee have entered his body?

“Cool with what?” Clint manages, although he’s pretty sure it sounds more like “Coowiwha” but Bucky gets the gist if his snort is anything to go by.

“Sharing a room with me on the mission we leave for in an hour,” Bucky clarifies.

“Mission? What mission?” Clint asks - again, it comes out more like “mizinwhamizin” but again, Clint thinks Bucky gets it.

“Honestly, Barton, do you ever pay attention in mission briefings?” Bucky asks exasperatedly. Clint shakes his head and drains his mug, shoving it back under the machine for more caffeiney goodness. “We have a mission. Should take a couple days. Would you,” he points at Clint, “like to share a room with me?” He points at himself.

Clint shrugs. “Sure,” he says.

“Great,” Bucky says brightly, putting his mug in the sink, “I’ll bring my laptop and we can watch Dog Cops until we fall asleep.” And that. That is why Clint has the most massivest crush on Bucky Barnes. “Ooo, what if we end up with only one bed?” Bucky winks and walks out of the kitchen. And that. That is why Clint can never act on his massive crush. Because _of course,_ Bucky likes sex and _of course_ , Clint’s not gonna ask him to give that up. It’s not fair. So Clint resigns himself to a slightly awkward mission where he tries not to flirt (if what Clint does can be called flirting. Really, he flirts about as well as a rock does so... There’s that.) with Bucky and stares at the ceiling at night trying not to think about Bucky’s warm body and safe strong arms just a few feet away.

Really. Clint’s not gonna think about the way Bucky’s arms wrapped around him and held him tightly the last time he nearly fell off a building. He’s not going to think about the warmth of Bucky’s shoulder against his whenever Bucky sits next to him.

Fuck. He’s thinking about it.

~~~~~~

The flight to wherever the fuck the mission is goes about as well as can be expected. Clint stays in the cockpit the whole time, piloting his ass off and praying to whoever’s listening that Bucky doesn’t - “You avoiding me, Barton?” Bucky plops down in the seat Nat has just vacated. That, Clint thinks. He was really hoping Bucky wouldn’t do that.

“Nonsense, Barnes,” he says, grinning, “Just making sure Stark’s autopilot doesn’t crash us in the middle of a cornfield again.”

“That was one time!” Stark shouts, making Clint snicker.

“You’re sure that’s it?” Bucky asks. “You’re not, like, mad at me or something?”

“What could you possibly have done for me to be mad at you for?” Clint asks, genuinely curious. Bucky doesn’t answer and when Clint looks over, the snarky comment on his lips dies in his mouth. “Hey, no, I’m not mad at you, Bucky, seriously,” Clint says, gently putting his free hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“You’ve been weird ever since this morning, and if it’s something I did -” Bucky cuts himself off. “You’re all I’ve got in the here and now, Clint, other than Steve. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You could never lose me, Bucky,” Clint says seriously. He keeps one eye on the readout from the jet and faces Bucky. Smiling softly, he says, “You’re stuck with me like Nat’s stuck with me, okay? I’m not going anywhere ever.”

“He’s not joking,” Nat calls, “I’ve tried to get rid of him, he just keeps coming back!”

“Hurtful!” Clint shouts, eyes not leaving Bucky’s face. “See? Not going anywhere.”

Bucky relaxes a smidge, and some tension leaves his shoulders. “Good,” he grumbles, getting up and starting to walk away, “I’d hate to have to drag you back to me kicking and screaming.”

Clint snorts. “You wouldn’t have to drag me,” he says under his breath, watching Bucky walk across the jet and slump into a seat between Steve and Sam. Clint turns around and refocuses on piloting the flying aircraft that’s currently holding sixty percent of the things he holds near and dear to his heart. (The other forty is Lucky and Kate, who’re both in Bed-Stuy, and Thor and Bruce, who are off-world and back at the Tower for logistical support.) “I’d follow you anywhere.”

~~~~~~

It’s not like Clint was _expecting_ his own room. He knows that Steve and Sam like to bunk together, and Nat will only bunk with him but she got her own room this time around, and Tony’s whole cover for being there is some tech conference so he’s at his own place. Which really only leaves Bucky and Clint, and Clint knows Bucky doesn’t like sleeping by himself in unfamiliar environments.

So, no. Clint wasn’t expecting his own room. And he’s fine with sharing with Bucky, honestly. He just thought that there would be more than one bed. “Did you do this on purpose?” He asks Bucky, both of them staring at the medium sized bed. Bed. Singular.

“What?” Bucky says, aghast. “I wouldn’t do that!”

“Are you sure?” Clint asks. “I’m not mad or anything, but you did say something about ‘only one bed’ this morning.” He tosses his shit on the coffee table - except for his bow. That, he sets down gently, running his hand over the curve of it lovingly.

“I wouldn’t do something like that, Clint,” Bucky says, sounding hurt. “I thought you knew that.”  
  
Clint looks up and frowns. Bucky should never be sad, in his opinion. “I do know that, Bucky,” he soothes, “I was only joking. I really don’t mind, in either case.”

“You’re sure? Because I can ask for a separate room, or for them to bring a cot or -”

Clint steps forward and puts his hand over Bucky’s mouth, cutting him off. “Seriously, it’s fine. We’re grown men, we can share a bed without it getting weird.” Bucky licks him again. “Really, Barnes? You’re gonna lick my hand twice in a day, knowing that I regularly fall into dumpsters and off buildings, not to mention I was flying the QuinJet today and we all know what Steve and Sam do in there that they think we don’t know about.”

Bucky gags theatrically. “That’s disgusting.”

“Agreed,” Clint says absently, studying his hand. “They should at least have the courtesy to put a sock on the ramp.”

“Wait, you’ve caught them?” Bucky says, grinning. Clint looks up and - blinks. Then blinks again. Because Bucky Barnes, eyes sparkling with mischief and face a teensy bit flushed is a sight to behold. Clint’s heart flutters. He ignores it.

“Yeah, a few times. Remind me to never tell you about the time I caught Sam balls-deep in Steve’s ass and tickling his chest with a feather. That was weird for all three of us.” Bucky laughs so hard that tears stream down his face and he has to sit down.

“I am going to tease Steve about that until we die,” Bucky swears vehemently, wiping tears off his face. Clint absently brushes a tear off of Bucky’s cheek with his thumb, lingering probably longer than he should.

“Kinkshaming’s not cool, bro,” Clint says sternly, shaking his finger at Bucky.

“Wha- no! That’s not what I meant. What Steve does in his sex life is none of my business,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “I meant the fact that he didn’t hear you coming.”

“Oh, he did,” Clint snorts, “He just didn’t care.”

“You sure know a lot about Steve’s sex life,” Bucky says, eyeing Clint out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s literally my job to notice things, Barnes,” Clint rolls his eyes, “Plus, you hear and see a lot when you’re in the vents.” He shrugs. “I could tell you some things about Tony that would make your toes curl, and that’s without touching the sex stuff.”

“No, thank you, please do not do that ever,” Bucky says in disgust. He pauses for a moment, and then, “You ever sneak around the vents near my place?”

Clint doesn’t know what to say. Yeah, Bucky I do. I’ve heard you jerk off a couple of times but that’s a massive breach of privacy, especially considering what you’ve been through so I mostly just stay away from your room because I don’t want to hear something I can’t unhear? That would go over well. “Nah, vents near your place are too small to fit through,” Clint says instead. “Probably done on purpose, knowing Tony.”

“Huh,” Bucky says, and then nothing.

“I’m gonna shower,” Clint says, grabbing his towel and heading into the tiny washroom. He turns on the water and stands in front of the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. Despite the amount of time Clint says ‘aw, feelings, no’ in a day, he is well aware that he has a very large, very stupid crush on Bucky. It’s not hard for him to tell. Hell, Clint’s pretty sure that he’s halfway in love with most of the team anyway - Steve’s really nice and Sam’s the perfect combination of snark and sass and Tony’s super generous and funny and Clint’s always had a thing for women who could beat him up (Bobbi, May, Nat, just to name a few). Then there’s Bruce’s shyness and inability to take a compliment even when he deserves the fuck out of it. And Thor gives the best hugs.

But Clint’s love for all of them is one hundred percent platonic. Steve has Sam, Tony has Pepper, Thor has Jane, Nat has - well, whoever she has, Clint doesn’t want to get in the way of that, and Bruce has Betty. And even if they were all single, it’s just not like that with them. But Bucky’s different. Clint wants to wrap himself up in Bucky’s arms and stay there for the rest of his life. He wants to sleep on top of Bucky and smush his face into Bucky’s chest every night.

As much as Clint loves his team, his feelings for Bucky are just... different. Clint doesn’t have words for it.

“Yo, Barton? You rubbin’ one out in there or somethin’?” Bucky shouts, pounding on the door.

Clint jerks out of his thoughts and blinks, realizing he’s been standing in front of the mirror for fifteen minutes. “Sorry! Be right out!” He shouts back, dunking his head under the showerhead to wet his hair and yanking off his shirt. He realizes abruptly that he forgot to bring underwear, and fuck’s sake, Clint, could you be any more cliche? He sighs and pulls off the rest of his clothes, wraps his lower half in a towel and splashes some water on his chest to make sure it looks like he actually showered and didn’t just stand in front of the mirror like a moron for fifteen minutes.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Bucky,” Clint says, pulling open the door, “Lost track of -” He freezes. Bucky’s eyes trail over him, starting at his eyes and working their way down. Clint squirms, _very_ uncomfortable because he knows what that look means, okay, and he’s really not looking forward to Bucky’s look of disbelief when Clint explains certain things about the way he is and what he will not, under any circumstances, do for anyone, ever. Not again. “Time,” he finishes lamely.

Bucky coughs and turns pink which is - actually so fucking cute, Clint wants to squeeze his cheeks. Normally, he’d make a joke about it but he knows that would be seen as flirting and he doesn’t want to encourage it, no matter how much he wants to encourage it. “Steve knocked. Stakeout in twenty.”

“Kay,” Clint says quietly. He heads over to his bag and pulls out a pair of his favourite underwear - they’re purple and soft and cozy and he loves them - and drops his towel without really thinking about it. He freezes for a split second when he hears Bucky choke on something behind him and then he yanks up his briefs and pulls on his gear, paying absolutely no attention to the laser-beams that Bucky calls eyes boring into the side of his face. Clint stares at his bow resolutely, checking it over and making sure that it’s in peak condition before finally looking up and jolting backwards.

Bucky’s _right there_. Two inches in front of Clint’s nose is his (unfairly pretty) stomach (and ab muscles that Clint likes to think about poking to see if they jiggle or if they just sit there, being all pretty and shit). Bucky tilts Clint’s face up with a finger on his chin, leans closer and murmurs, “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong, sweetheart.”

Clint ignores the little flutter he gets in his stomach when Bucky calls him sweetheart and just - stops. Error 404, clintbrain.exe has stopped working. Bucky kisses him gently, and okay, for the first few seconds, it’s not _terrible_ but Clint _really_ does not like when people kiss him on the mouth. The whole thing is just weird. Why would you put your mouth on someone else’s mouth? What does it accomplish? It just stops both parties from breathing and it can’t be pleasant - scratch that, it _isn’t_ pleasant - to have someone else’s tongue inside your mouth.

Clint jerks away abruptly, eyes wide. He stares at Bucky, who’s also got wide eyes. So, Clint stares at Bucky. Bucky stares at Clint. They stare at each other. “Guess I was readin’ that wrong,” Bucky says, grinning sheepishly. “We don’t have to talk about it, and I really hope this doesn’t change anything,” he says softly. Bucky reaches out and awkwardly pats Clint on the shoulder twice, then grabs his weapons and leaves.

Clint stares at the door that closed behind Bucky. Did that really just happen? Clint can’t process that. Not right now, definitely, and maybe not right ever. Probably not right ever, if Clint’s being honest. He grabs his bow and a full quiver from his bag and walks mechanically to the door, pulling it open and stopping what seems to be a very heated discussion between Steve and Bucky. He looks between them blankly and shuts the door behind him. “Forgot your room key,” he says, flicking a little plastic card at Bucky. Bucky catches it and nods at him, not saying a word.

As Clint’s walking away from them and towards Natasha, he hears Bucky say, ”Drop it, Steve. I tried, he didn’t react the way I wanted him to, that’s it.”

“But -” Steve tries.

“No,” Bucky hisses, “Things don’t always turn out the way we want them to, Steve. I’m not going to -” The rest of his response is lost as Natasha pulls him into a headlock and gives him a noogie.

“Why the long face, Ястребка?” She says, grinning at him. When he doesn’t respond, she releases him and takes his chin in her hand, looking him over.

“Nat,” Clint croaks. He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t have to. Natasha gets him, has always gotten him. She’s the first (and only) one he told about himself, and about his crush on Bucky. She’s always been there for him and she’ll always _be_ there for him, and him for her. That’s just how they are.

“Ястребка,” she clucks her tongue. “Я так виноват.”

“Me too,” Clint mutters. He drops into the backseat of the car they rented for this mission and Nat pushes herself beside him, yanking Sam in after her. That leaves Bucky no choice but to sit in the front and Clint could honestly hug Natasha right now for doing that.

Nat takes his chin in her hand again and says quietly, no louder than a breath, “чувства позже;  миссия сейчас _._ ” Clint nods.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets everything he feels about Bucky blow away when he exhales. He repeats this until his mind is quiet and then he opens his eyes and nods at Natasha.

She’s right. Mission now, feelings later.

~~~~~~

“Well, that went well,” Sam grumps, swearing as his pack sparks, burning his finger.

“About as well as could be expected with that level of intel,” Nat agrees, pressing an ice pack to the bruise on her jaw.

“Well, I think it went swimmingly,” Tony says loudly, yanking at the boot of his Iron Man suit. “Hey, Spangles, little help over here?” Steve, without looking away from the cut on Sam’s leg, reaches out a hand, latches on to Tony’s boot and yanks. The boot comes off with a _pop_ and Tony falls on his ass. “Thanks.”

“Sure, Tony. You’re sure this doesn’t hurt?” Steve says, gently pulling Sam’s tattered pants away to get a clearer look at his injury.

“It’s fine, mom,” Sam says irritably, batting Steve’s hands away. “Worry about Barton or Barnes or something, I’m good.”

“Speaking of the Sniper Duo,” Tony says, eyeing them suspiciously, “You’re being awfully quiet over there. You guys get your tongues removed or something?”

“I’m checking over my bow - smacked a goon over the head pretty hard with it earlier. Wanna make sure it doesn’t need any fixing,” Clint says quietly. He’s still in mission mode and on missions, the most important things to him are Nat, his bow, and the team - in that order. Nat’s fine, other than a bruised jaw and a bruised pride, so he’s checking over his bow.

“Tired,” he hears Buckys grunt, and Clint very much does not look up to see if Bucky needs medical attention - or just attention in general, Clint’s not picky. He focuses on his bow and nearly misses the B-E-D that Tasha taps out on the small of his back. He shakes his head minutely, not looking at her.

S-U-R-E comes next, and Clint nods this time. He has to explain this to Bucky at some point, might as well be while they’re sharing a room. He can adult long enough to have a serious conversation (probably) - he doesn’t need Tasha to switch rooms with Bucky to make him more comfortable.

His bow is fine, so Clint moves to the rent-a-car and leans against it, eyes skipping over each person and cataloguing their various injuries. Sam’s got a busted pack and a cut on his leg that just needs a bandage, Steve’s got busted knuckles (from punching his way through a squad of goons to get to Sam after one of them shot his pack out), Tony’s got a small cut above his eye (from when his face hit the edge of the suit when he slammed into the second squad of goons that got sent in to take Steve out), Nat’s just got a bruised jaw (one of the goons got in a lucky hit - and was so surprised that he put up no fight when Clint beat him over the head with his bow), and Bucky - Bucky is staring right back at Clint.

He raises an eyebrow and Clint just looks back at him blankly, noting the beginnings (or ends, he can never quite tell with the damn serum healing Steve or Bucky before the injury even makes itself known sometimes) of a black eye, then moving his gaze back to Nat.

She looks him over, poking at the bruises he got when he leaped out of the rafters to beat the guy that punched her. He hisses but lets her poke at him, knowing she needs it as much as he does. Neither of them gets the post-battle adrenaline rush that seems to affect near everyone else. Clint knows that Sam and Steve will go fuck it off, Tony would normally head back to his lab to work on something until he drops and Bucky - well, Clint doesn’t actually know what Bucky does.

“Alright, back to the motel,” Steve says, clapping his hands. They all pile into the jeep (except for Tony, who jams his flickering boot back onto his foot and flies off, wobbling) and drive back to the motel. Clint and Bucky are silent, but the rest of the team is loud - cracking jokes and laughing. That would be the post-fight adrenaline rush making itself known.

Bucky leaps out of the car as soon as it slows down, barely waiting for it to roll to a stop before he’s out of the car and in his and Clint’s room, door propped open behind him. Nat looks back at Clint one more time before she gets out of the car and he shakes his head at her, motioning with his chin towards her room. She tips her chin at him and vanishes, probably to take a hot shower. “I’ll grab the stuff out of the car and bring it in, Steve, you go have yourself a quiet night,” Clint says, winking.

Steve turns bright red and stammers something, but Sam grabs his arm and drags him into their room. Clint chuckles, coming out of his mission headspace, and takes his time gathering up the gear. By the time he locks the car and makes it to the room, Bucky’s in the shower.

All the better, probably. Clint needs a few minutes to sort through his thoughts. He lays his bow on the little coffee table and changes out of his uniform, then flops down onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t even know if Bucky knows about him. It’s not like Clint hides it. He certainly doesn’t broadcast it over every available outlet like Tony does with his bisexuality, but it’s not like he kills everyone who knows.

Nat knows, because he told her. Sam knows, because he guessed during a conversation they were having one day. Steve knows, because Sam would have told him. Clint doesn’t know if Tony knows, mostly because Tony’s never said anything to make Clint _think_ he knows, but you can never be too sure with Tony.

The bathroom door opens and Clint’s eyes slide over, meeting Bucky’s gaze evenly. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” Bucky says quietly, and he pulls clothes out of his bag and goes back into the washroom.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” Clint says when he comes back out. Clint winces. Moron, how’s he gonna take that.

“Yeah, I think I do,” Bucky scoffs, shaking his head. “You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t want _me_ that close to you.”

It’s the emphasis put on ‘me’ that catches Clint’s attention. A few things click into place. “You think I didn’t kiss you because it’s _you_?” Clint says incredulously. Bucky nods, clenching his jaw. “Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself? Literally, almost anyone would love to kiss you.” Clint waves his hands around, voice getting louder.

“Almost anyone?”

Clint nods. “Well, yeah. I mean there’s lesbians and straight guys, of course, but there’s also -”

“You,” Bucky finishes bitterly.

Clint slumps. “Yeah. Me,” he says, staring at the floor. “But can I explain why?”

“I really don’t feel like having my flaws picked apart under a microscope right now, sorry.”

“It’s not you!” Clint nearly shouts, wincing at his volume.

“What,” Bucky says flatly.

“It’s not you,” Clint says sheepishly, “It’s me.”

“If this is some bullshit about you not being good enough for me, you listen here, Clint Barton -” Bucky starts.

“What? No,” Clint snorts, “I’m great. You would be lucky to have me. This is something,” he waves his hand, searching for the word, “else.”

“Else,” Bucky repeats.

“Yeah, it’s completely, one hundred percent, me.”

Bucky sits down on the opposite side of the bed gingerly. “Explain.”

“Okay so obviously you know that being queer isn’t illegal anymore.”

Bucky nods. “As evidenced by Captain America and his bird in the next room.”

“Oh fuck, can you _hear_ them?” Clint asks in disgust. Bucky nods again, grimacing. “That’s gross.”

“Oh, for sure,” Bucky agrees and he grins at Clint, and for a second, it’s like this day never happened and everything’s back to normal. And then his eyes shutter and Clint’s reminded of what he did. “Your point?”

“My point is...” Clint takes a deep breath. Nothing to lose now, he thinks, and plunges right in. “My point is that being queer isn’t illegal anymore which was really nice growing up with because I never had to worry about the stuff you probably did if I was out with a guy. But I don’t even know if what I am was a thing back then, you know, and I don’t really know how to explain it properly without fucking it up somehow and -”

“Clint! Breathe!” Clint sucks in a breath automatically and realizes his lungs were screaming.

“Thanks. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is,” Clint closes his eyes, not wanting to see the look on Bucky’s face when he tells him, “I’m asexual.” Silence. Clint peeks an eye open to see Bucky with a stunned expression on his face. “Bucky. Bucky? You alright?” Clint asks cautiously, waving a hand in front of Bucky’s face.

Bucky blinks. “Yeah, fine. So what’s that - asexual, I mean. What’s it mean?”

Clint relaxes a little, now that Bucky’s not telling him that it’s not a real thing and he just doesn’t know what he wants and _how can you know if you’ve never tried_ and _it’s okay baby, you just need to find the right person let me be that person for you_ \- “Clint, breathe!” He snaps his eyes open, not realizing he’d shut them and sucks in another breath.

“Thanks,” he says weakly. He steels himself. “It’s different for everyone. The generally agreed upon definition is someone who doesn’t feel sexual attraction. For me, it means that I don’t want to have sex ever. It’s not something I’m interested in - it kinda grosses me out, actually. All that bodily fluid and touching and ugh,” he shudders. “Not my cup of tea.”

“You don’t like tea,” Bucky says, something strange in his voice.

Clint points at him. “Exactly. That’s why it’s not my cup of tea.” Bucky snorts and Clint grins, proud of himself.

“So, when I kissed you earlier...” Bucky says slowly.

Clint winces. “Yeah, I probably didn’t react the best way I could’ve.”

“No, really?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. It’s just, uh... Kisses on the mouth aren’t my thing. I just don’t get it - why would you put your mouth on someone else’s mouth? What does it accomplish? It just prohibits breathing and it’s not fun having someone else’s tongue in your mouth, that’s just nasty. Plus -”

“Clint.”

“Huh?” Bucky’s looking at him strangely. “What?”

“So you don’t like being kissed on the mouth. Kissing in general, though, that’s fine?”

Clint nods, then shakes his head. “It’s complicated. I love knuckle kisses and cheek kisses, and I am a _slut_ for some forehead kisses. But anywhere else...” He shudders. “It’s just weird.”

“Do you still masturbate?” Bucky asks, then he looks horrified. “I am so sorry, that’s none of my business, you don’t have to tell me -”

“Bucky.” Clint stops him. “You’re right, it is none of your business. But I might as well tell you, since we’re having this conversation.” He pulls his legs underneath him and gets more comfortable. “Yes, I do still masturbate, and yes, I can and do still get aroused.”

“But,” Bucky waves a hand in the air, obviously not knowing how to ask the question. “How?”

Clint shrugs. “Same way you do.” He makes a lewd gesture with his hand and Bucky throws a pillow at him.

“Idiot,” Bucky says fondly. “I just - you said you don’t get turned on so -”

“No, I said I don’t feel sexual attraction.” Clint corrects. “Asking me to have sex with anyone would be like asking you to have sex with... Tony.” Bucky makes a disgusted face and Clint points at him. “Exactly! The way you feel when you think of having sex with Tony is the way I feel when I think about having sex with anyone!”

Bucky blinks. “That... makes a lot of sense.” Something changes in his eyes and he looks at Clint. “So, if I wanted to show you that I liked you, how would I do that?”

Clint swallows. “Um, well, I don’t - that’s not -” He gives up and just shrugs. “No one’s ever asked me how I’d want them to show me they cared for me before. They’ve just assumed that the normal ways would work and I... never bothered to correct them.”

Bucky scoots closer and Clint’s heart is suddenly pounding in his chest. “Holding hands okay?” Clint nods and Bucky slides his hand into Clint’s, entwining their fingers together and squeezing gently. “What are your feelings on cuddling?”

“I’m a slut for some good cuddles,” Clint says, _like a moron_ . He’s just about to start freaking out when Bucky _lifts him up and places Clint on his lap_. Clint squeaks.

“Good?” Bucky asks, pulling Clint’s legs across his lap and linking his hands on Clint’s side. Clint nods, unable to speak. Bucky leans his forehead against Clint’s and before Clint can stop himself, he tenses. Bucky pulls away and raises an eyebrow at Clint questioningly.

“It’s - I don’t like things that close to my face,” Clint mutters, “Especially people. I know you wouldn’t but there’s always that ‘what if’ thought at the back of my mind, you know? What if they decide they can change me? What if they decide that this time they’ve had enough, and they’re going to kiss me whether I like it or not?”

“Has anyone ever -” Bucky growls, eyes flashing. “Not my business,” he mumbles, cutting himself off. He kisses Clint’s cheek gently and Clint turns pink, pressing his hand to his cheek in awe. A yawn escapes Clint's mouth and he covers his mouth, blushing deeper. “Tired, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, grinning. Clint nods. “How do you feel about sleeping with me? Just sleeping.”

“As long as I get to be the little spoon,” Clint says, scrambling out of Bucky’s lap and burrowing under the covers.

“Anything you want, Clint,” Bucky says, sliding in next to him. “Anything at all.” Clint pushes himself into Bucky’s warmth, immediately letting loose a yawn as Bucky’s arm wraps around him.

He was right, Clint thinks as he drifts off to sleep. Bucky’s arms do feel safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Ястребка = little hawk  
> Я так виноват = I'm so sorry  
> чувства позже; миссия сейчас = feelings later; mission now
> 
> Thanks to my Official Russian Person for the language stuff! You're great and I love you!


End file.
